


False As Handshakes

by Pretendthisisfiction (HelloIWriteFanfic)



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe- No Band, Angst, Coping, Crime, Dancing, Drug Addiction, Falling In Love, Gen, I watched Across The Universe And Got Inspired, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It Gets Sweet, Musician Josh, Past Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Ryan Is A Sad Hooker, Trust Issues, Vietnam War, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloIWriteFanfic/pseuds/Pretendthisisfiction
Summary: What the Vietnam war had brought about was nothing short of something fantastical and reckless. There was something to stay up just another few hours for; to grace one's lips across a glass of cheap liquor, to blast the new music from records and stereos. The elusiveness of rebellion had brought out a spirit in everybody- one of life, and rigor, and one that wouldn't stop singing until it passed out drunk at 5 am on a lazy Saturday in some New York back alley.





	1. Come Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all I'm back! This one is a bit more plot heavy (Or at least I like to think so) Than AT so tell me what you think! Comments fuel hungry writers. Also, i'm in need of a beta if there are any takers! xx

\- You’ve got it all there, the undiscovered talent, the eyes of an angel, the lips of a devil. Now we just have to uncover it. But you’re a young, fragile little being, as much as you’d like to deny it. Give it a few years, and kid, I’ll take you far. -

What the Vietnam war had brought about was nothing short of something fantastical and reckless. There was something to stay up just another few hours for; to grace one's lips across a glass of cheap liquor, to blast the new music from records and stereos. The elusiveness of rebellion had brought out a spirit in everybody- one of life, and rigor, and one that wouldn't stop singing until it passed out drunk at 5 am on a lazy Saturday in some New York back alley.

Joshua Dun was a lot of things. One of those was an alcoholic. When he moved away from his family, he thought, maybe it wouldn't be too hard to kick the habit now that he didn't have their problems on his back. 

Obviously he was wrong. Five years in, and he loved whiskey more than he loved his job, his friends, his life. 

Kaitlin was his girl's name, and she was blonde and beautiful in the way that bombs set the sky ablaze across the ocean. And like that fire, so was she that could give life or burn a forest into dust. If Josh could remember why he fell in love with her in the first place, maybe things would be different. She would be in San Francisco, smiling brighter than sunshine with the wind in her hair with her beautiful friends and art and ideas. He'd still be in New York City, throwing parties left and right like the playboy he was.

But they were still here, together. She was always away on fashion photo shoots, and he was always working late, and they were nothing but a bitter, awful disaster. 

The date was August 17th, 1973, and the time was 10:47 PM when he ordered a glass of scotch at a bar he had never been to before. It was called the Mercy Lounge, and it held itself proudly beneath a slightly larger bar and venue called Roses. Josh had been to the latter multiple times, but had never bothered venturing downstairs until now. It wasn't by choice either, but Roses had been subjected to a riot and apparently the glass shards from broken windows and spilled bottles still littered the floor to the point of danger. So he had taken a walk down the rickety wooden staircase to Mercy, opening the heavy black door, covered in faded protest fliers that littered the surface, that divided the stairs from the wide, dark room. 

People were smoking in one corner, long curls of vapor gathering towards the ceiling in a thin layer of grey. The bar itself could be counted as dismal, with only two other men sitting at the counter and an array of liquor that seemed limited to whatever could be purchased cheaply at the nearest corner store. Josh wasn't complaining though, whiskey was whiskey was whiskey.

He takes a sip of his drink, a calloused finger skimming over the rim of the glass before he leans forward to speak to the bartender, "Is everyone usually this...Subdued?" 

The bartender, who had dark, chestnut colored hair and a rather nice chin, completed, "Subdued, huh?" as he shoved a clean glass under the counter. "Not always. When the sweets are here, it's different. The kids get loud and everybody likes it." 

"Sweets?"

"Drugs, baby."

Josh raised his eyebrow a little. Usually, establishments would go to great lengths to deny any affiliation with illegal substances, but here, they supplied them. His expression must've become too evident though because now the bartender is chuckling as he pours another glass and slides it to Josh. "You've never been here before, have you, man?"

"Nah." Josh replies, shaking his head as he knocks back his drink and runs a hand through his mop of brown hair. "Just wanted a drink." He mumbles, the bartender nodding in reply as he does.

"Girl troubles? Job? War?" The man guesses with a small smirk as he pours a drink for himself behind the bar. "Check all of the above." Josh replies, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he looks down, short nails tracing over the dips of the lacquered wood covering the bar. Traces of sticky beer lingering on his skin until he wipes his hands over his jeans.

"How about I set you up with somebody? They can bring somethin' to take your edge off." 

Josh hesitates, thinking over the bartender's offer. The consequences are obvious, but at this point he can't see how things could get any worse. He barely remembers nodding his agreement, but next thing he knows he's outside the bar with a cheap business card in his hand and a new phone number at the tip of his tongue. 

He didn't call it that night, he wasn't desperate. He shoved the card into his pocket where it gathered with the stub of a cigarette and a couple mints. He didn't think about it in the next few weeks of binge drinking and searching for a new job that didn't require him selling his soul to the U.S army. He didn't think about it until Kaitlin ended up burning his clothes one night after a screaming match they had about God knows what. The neighbors below them called the cops and Josh ditched as soon as he heard sirens. Shoving his hands into his pockets as he trudged down the fire escape.

It was then that he hand reconnected with the slip of paper, and the idea of calling reentered his brain. 

Getting the phone booth was easy enough. It was dark and the streets were fairly empty seeing as it was a Thursday. Josh stepped inside the glass and metal box with a heavy sigh before pulling out the card to stare down at the nine digits neatly typed out with black ink. The card in no way indicated what the business was, which was probably a wise decision. The law didn't mess around with anybody who they thought might be affiliated with the new wave of antu-political rebellion. They would probably consider calling cards handed out for drug deals and dodgy clubs something along those lines. 

When he finally dials, the number nearly rings out before somebody on the other end picks up and even when they do, it takes Josh speaking first to get anybody to indicate their presence.

"Hello?" He mumbled questioningly. Listening to the person on the other line's steady breathing before coughing awkwardly away from the receiver. 

"I got this number from the guy at Mercy. It's for a deal, right?" 

"Mercy?" The other voice finally broke in. A deep drawl the definitely wasn't from New York and carried a sense of superiority along with it. "You're good then. Bring cash to the Signature off of twenty-sixth by eleven. I'll send somebody to meet you there and I want them back by five at the latest." The voice deepens with seriousness towards the end and Josh found himself nodding despite the other man not being able to see him. 

"Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks, man." Josh replies and the other man chuckles lowly before hanging up on the other end. The sound gives Josh a bad taste in his mouth, but he chooses to ignore it as he shoves the card back in his pocket and exits the booth.

The Signature is not a classy establishment. It's slightly outside the central city, falling into the industrial area somewhere off of Amerforst and Sulivan. It's grey exterior is broken up by a peach-pink door that must've once been bright but is now chipped away to reveal a layer of red paint beneath it. It's not the kind of place that Josh would've ever hoped to voluntarily go into, but times change, and the only thing he can think of right now is forgetting about just how badly everything has fallen apart.

There's a boy leaned over the check in counter. Feet dangling over the ground as he pulls himself over to look at whatever the man behind the desk is showing and other than that the lobby is completely empty. Illusions to human life ending at the cigarette burns on the cheap red carpet and the discarded blunt still smoking in a dish on the counter.

"Um, hello?" 

As soon as he speaks, the two people at the counter shoot up with matching surprised expressions. The boy slipping back to his respective side of the desk and the older man pushing his hair forward in what Josh assumes is an attempt to hide his red-rimmed eyes. 

"Are you the guy from Mercy?" 

The kid's voice is fast, and his eyes bounce between the two other men in the room with an energetic disbalance that matches the way he's bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet. He's waifishly thin with eyes too big for his face and hair that curls into a mop that he's halfheartedly tucked back behind his ears.

He looks disheveled at best, but Josh supposes that he shouldn't expect anything less from a place like this. 

"Yeah, and you aren't the guy from the phone." Josh replies.

"You didn't expect him, did you?" The kid giggles breathily as a slightly off-putting grin breaks across his pale face and he struts over the Josh. "He never goes out, he just does the business, so you get me. I'm prettier too, you know." The kid smiles before reaching back across the counter to grab a key. Smiling towards the desk clerk who is already lighting up another joint before grabbing Josh's hand and puling him away from the lobby and towards one of the rooms.

It's about then that Josh starts to grow a little more concerned. He had assumed when the bartender suggested something to help relax that it was harder drugs or possibly some girl down on her luck that'd be sent his way, not some...Kid. 

The kid in question is now swinging open the door to one of the rooms in the long hall. Slipping in before Josh does and flicking on one of the dim lamps stationed on a nightstand before pulling something from the pocket of his tight bell-bottom jeans. "You want your lines before or after?" he says as he spills out what Josh assumes is cocaine across the tabletop. Sliding it into neat little lines before turning to face Josh. 

"Most guys want it before, to help with the denial and all..." The kid says with an apologetic giggle as he gestures to the lines with a spidery hand. 

"Look um, I think there's been a misunderstanding-" Josh starts, watching as the kid's expression drops from delighted to apprehensive like the flick of a switch. 

"You're coping out on me? C'mon man..." The kid cuts in, looking back at the lines and then towards Josh with an almost hopeless look that catches Josh slightly off guard before he speaks again. "I-It's not like that, man. I' just not queer." He looks down as he speaks, feeling embarrassed for some reason even though if anybody should be embarrassed, it's the evidently queer hooker in front of him. 

"Then why'd you go to a queer bar?" The kid says, and Josh's head shoots up with an inquisitive look as the other boy folds his skinny arms over his chest and stares back at Josh. 

"I didn't know it was a queer bar, I just wanted a drink." He shrugs, watching as the kid rolls his hazel eyes towards Josh before turning to bend down at the table. Inhaling a line of white powder like second nature before speaking again with a dejected tone. You're a dumbass, and now my boss is gonna be pissed that I've wasted time on some straight guy who won't pay up." 

Josh watches as the kid crumples down cross-legged on the shitty carpet of the room. His chin resting in his hands as he closes his eyes and begins to let the drug work it's way into his system. 

"How old are you anyway?" Josh asks, hoping to ease some of the awkwardness out of the situation enough to not feel terrible if he were to use one of the lines himself. He's curious too really, because he's only twenty-three himself, still what he would consider young, and he knows this kid can't be near that. 

"M' nineteen." Comes the reply, accompanied by another disdainful look before the kid gestures to the lines on the table. "You may as well do one, I know you're dying to." 

Josh nods and carefully kneels next to the kid, curling a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket into a tube before inhaling a line and leaning back against the wall. The wallpaper is faded pink and the carpet is a deep red which accompanied by the glowing pink of the lamps, gives the impression that he was getting high in some sort of twisted valentine-themed nightmare. 

"Is your boss really gonna get mad at you?" He asks, turning to face the kid who is now swaying from side to side in some imaginary beat that only he can feel. He must've heard Josh though, because he nods a little and grins up at him. "Mhm, he'll be real pissed. We can't lose money anymore, apparently. So he'll beat my ass or make me work a club shift. Same difference, really." He giggles before leaning against Josh and staring up at him with those humorously big hazel eyes. 

"You sure you don't even want a blowjob or somethin?" He pouts as he speaks, his lips don't appear soft and pink like Kaitlin's do though. Instead they're cracked and pale, similar to the skin around the kid's nose which seems to also be speckled with blood now that Josh is getting a closer look. He shakes his head, obviously, and the kid falls away almost instantly. Curling up on himself in a small heap of long, wiry limbs and an angry expression. 

"Look, I can call your boss again and explain what happened..." Josh starts until the kid's head snaps up like he'd been hit and begins to shake his head, looking at Josh owlishly, like he had said the craziest thing he'd ever heard.

"No way. We're not supposed to talk to clients unless it's to get them to call on us again. I'd be in worse trouble if he knew I'd told you anything. It'd be better if we just never saw you again." 

The kid looks down and Josh frowns a little. Whatever boss this guy has doesn't sound too fun and the idea of somebody who looked like they could blow over with any strong gust of wind getting beaten up because of one client's mistake didn't sit well with Josh. 

"Why do you even do this?" He asked, leaning his head back against the wall as he scraped the ragged edge of his nail over his chapped bottom lip. The coke is making his movements appear to shake in his vision but he's well adjusted enough to chemical help to not be stirred too much from only one line. 

"Why did you call?" The kid replies, avoiding Josh's question with a thin, raised eyebrow before shuffling back to the table to grab the plastic bag of coke before standing up again on shaky legs. "I can't waste anymore time here. Please don't call again unless you change your mind about who get's to such your dick." 

He's gone fast, closing the door behind him to leave Josh cross-legged on the floor under dim pink light still under a coke high. He probably shouldn't have expected any better for his night, but he can't help but feel dissapointed. He had hoped that after calling the number he would feel his worries slip away, even for a few hours. But already he can feel his stomach twist slightly at the idea of the kid returning back to some boss that'll beat him up before setting him on another line and sending him to a man much more willing than Josh was. He knows how the guys in the city are, and he knows that no matter how fragile the kid looks, they wouldn't ever bother to be gentle with him.

He also knew how many headlines he had read that year alone about the young prostitutes who kept showing up dead on the streets. Either from overdoses or freezing or getting beaten up after a bad deal. He'd be honest to God surprised of the kid lasted till the end of the year looking the way he did. But it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. The rules had been made clear, and Josh couldn't call again just to make sure the kid was alive. He had other things to worry about anyway.

Kaitlin wasn't home when he came back. Josh wouldn't put it past her if she had sought out the same kind of deal that he had. The difference would be that she probably succeeded and was currently having her world rocked by some long-haired bastard with a better smile and eyes that actually looked alive. He couldn't blame her, she had the same reasons he did.

She does eventually come back, smelling of cigarette smoke and expensive drinks they can't afford. Josh chooses to pretend the fight never happened and she does the same. The cycle will undoubtedly repeat itself, but for now Josh is content to pretend everything is fine as he presses his own lips to her pale skin.

He forgets about the kid after about a week. It's all too easy to return to his pattern of binge drinking and taking up labor jobs every other week. He avoids Mercy out of principle, instead choosing to slip into one of the dance clubs down in inner city weeks after the incident. Gabe Saporta is the one who invited him, the man's tan face split into an excited grin at the very mention of the club's name and he kept rambling on about some boy who danced there. Josh had been only mildly surprised that Gabe was queer, but he still felt wary. Gabe wasn't the type to hide his lifestyle even if it meant he was safer. 

The club itself is more popular than Josh had anticipated. Unlike his usual spots which hide themselves down backstreets and dark corners, the building stands in a low sprawl of industrial brick and pulsing music. Women in sparkling dresses that cling to their sweat-covered skin topple out through the large metal doors and the lights inside bathe everything in a golden haze. The fact that drugs are plentiful here comes as no surprise, so Josh doesn't even raise an eyebrow as he watches two men exchange a packet of white powder as soon as he enters the door. 

"Baby, Baby! You made it!" Josh hears Gabe exclaim nearby and as soon left staggering into some girl who spills half of her sticky martini onto him as the other man pulls him into an unnecessarily loving hug. When he looks at Gabe, the man's dark hair is plastered to his forehead and the jacket of his bright white suit is stained with red lipstick at the collar. Josh smirks a little before nodding at the mark. "I thought you weren't here for the women?" He says, tilting his eyebrow playfully as he speaks.

Gabe laughs and looks down at the stain before shaking his head. "Nah, that's Bilvy's too. He likes to show off." He grins, a look that gains more excitement as he sees somebody over Josh's shoulder and points his finger to the person and then to himself. "He's here now, and Joshy baby, you'll get what I mean when you see him." 

Josh does get it, in ways. William is undoubtedly handsome, with high, girlish cheekbones and big doe eyes that hide behind coffee-colored curls. He has an appearance that sits neatly between a pretty girl and a child, but the smirk on his lips indicates no form of innocence. He's got his hand in somebody elses, and about the time when Josh sees who it is is when he starts to get nervous. 

It's the kid, unquestionably. The same birdlike figure and big eyes are obvious. Him and William look like they could be siblings, the difference being that William's expression has remained playful, whereas the kid's falls into an uncomfortable glare as soon as his hazel eyes fall onto Josh.

"Gabey, I want you to meet my friend Ryan." William says with a laugh, waving his arm to the boy at his side as if to present him. Gabe seems delighted, his fantasy with William suddenly getting doubled upon Ryan's arrival, but Josh can't even get his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth. It's worse that he doesn't even know why.

He shouldn't be nervous about it. It's not his fault that Ryan went to the club, and it's not like they even did anything before. His heart speeds up for a second at the tracing thought of "You could've", but he ignores it. He's not like Gabe, his sexuality doesn't change with the wind and whatever piece of jailbait has the prettiest smile. His guilt must be coming from spending a night even thing about cheating on Kaitlin.

He's sure that's it.

Ryan rest his head against William's shoulder as the taller boy speaks. The two other's are lost in some teasing conversation and Josh might've joined if it weren't for the face that Ryan's eyes refuse to leave his. It's not kind though, or playful. It looks more like a challenge than anything else. 

They don't speak till much later. Gabe and William left for the bathrooms a suspicious amount of time ago, leaving Josh to spin between dancing partners until he's suddenly left with an armful of bony limbs and the soft cotton fabric of Ryan's shirt. 

"William doesn't know about what I do." Ryan starts. He's only just shorter than Josh, so his slim hips press gently below Josh's own, fitting together like a puzzle as Ryan tilts his chin up to stare at Josh. There's speckles of blood under his nose lip, and his pupils are blown out to the point that Josh has to wonder if Ryan will even remember this in the morning. 

"I wouldn't tell them anyway, Ryan. Think of where that'd put me. I'd have to admit to how we met, and Gabe talks too much. My girl would find out and even if she does the same thing, she'd use it as an excuse to split and I can't lose her." 

Ryan nods, a small smirk playing on his thin lips as he sway them back against the music. "Sounds like a really swell relationship you've got going for you." 

"Better than what you've got going on." 

The reaction is instantaneous, and Josh regrets saying it at about the same speed. Ryan's smirk falls into a thin line and his nearly-black eyes flash dangerously. Seconds ago he had looked playful, human even if damaged, and now the pink spotlights have shifted Ryan's cheekbones into black holes and his posture goes rigid. If Josh could take it back, he would. He doesn't like being an asshole to people who don't warrant it, and he's positive that Ryan's original career path wasn't prostitution, but the words are out, and Ryan's chin tilts up proudly as he spits his reply. 

"At least i'm not some desperate failure who tries drugs and prostitutes to distract himself from how shitty his life is. All I do is my job, baby. But you're the reason the job exist." 

Josh doesn't have time to give any kind of halfhearted apology before Ryan is shaking his head and slipping into the cloud of blue cigarette smoke and glitter that makes up the outer corners of the dance. 

He briefly considers leaving, under the assumption that Gabe won't be coming back soon and he's not sure if he wants to get high tonight. But this club seems intent to reunite him with everyone he doesn't want to see, because as soon as he raises his eyes from the floor, he's met with a set of Crystal blue ones staring straight at him. 

She's tall, blonde, and wearing a sequined-white dress that drapes over her thin frame like she was born for it. Jenna was never not beautiful, but tonight it's enough to hit a man like a truck. Her stare could best be described as unforgiving though, and Josh sighs heavily upon that note. It'd be nice if somebody on the floor didn't hate his guts.

"Josh." She says simply as she walks over. Yellow silk heals taking their good time as her eyes wonder over him, taking in everything that's changed. He can't even hear her voice over the music until she's closer, but he's seen her say his name enough times that he can read her lips well enough. 

He had expected anything. To be slapped, punched, screamed at, cried to, anything.

He had't really expected to have her wrap around him in a crushingly-tight hug. 

"Joshua Dun you absolute, motherfucking bastard!" 

Yeah, that was more along the lines of what he had been expecting. 

She pulls him to a quiet corner before peaking again. Her eyes are huge and her hand is holding his like cement. A year ago he would've run by now, but he's had time, and part of him knows that an apology might not hurt. 

"Jenna, I'm so sorry." He starts. His eyes fix themselves to the ground and he watches as her hand leaves his to slide away and fold across her chest. It's quiet for a moment, and he wouldn't put it past her to not accept. He had never thought he'd speak to her again, and now all of the emotions left from a year ago are coursing back through him. 

"I-I've had time to thing about it more." Jenna's voice cracks, and Josh braves enough to look back up enough to meet her eyes as he speaks. "I've had time to think and I've realized that it wasn't your fault, what happened." 

"It was hell, you know that. And for ages I woke up every day and I was just....I kept looking for anybody to blame it on because blaming somebody made it easier. Blame meant that there was a reason." 

"But you were his best friend, Josh. You knew him more than I ever could and sometimes I was jealous but in the end I should've known that he loved us both equally, just in different ways. I wish I had known earlier how to understand that. " She wipes a neatly-manicured hand over her face before speaking again.

"What happened wasn't either of our faults. I think...I think it was always what was going to happen to Tyler. We were just the lucky ones that got to have him while he was here. And it's cruel to who he was to be at each other's necks for it. The only thing i'm really mad about anymore is that you...You just vanished, Josh. I thought you had died too!" 

A wave of guilt washes over him, closing up his throat as he bites down hard on his lip and shakes his head. At the time, leaving had seemed like the only rational decision. Being around Jenna did nothing but remind him of his best friend's death, and they had truly, truly hated each other then. Subconsciously he knew that he'd thought of vanishing as one last good stab to the back. 

It feels right, then to wrap his arms around Jenna. It's the first time in over a year, because even in the last few months of Tyler's life, they had been distant. She still has the same feeling of safety and warmth though, and for the first time in so long, Josh can actually feel a spark in the pit of his stomach that begins to feel like the person he can remember being. 

It might be nice to be something like that guy again, he thinks. 

It would've been easy to leave then. Nothing that would happen in the following weeks would've happened if he hadn't looked away from Jenna for a second, just a second, but long enough to see two significantly larger men pushing a familiar figure towards the back door. 

"What's wrong?" Jenna asks, her forehead creasing into the worry lines Tyler used to press kisses to as she looks to where Josh is staring. "Do you know him?" 

"Regrettably." Josh mumbles, and he knows he doesn't really want to intervene with whatever is happening within the scuffle of thin limbs and glares sent from the taller men as the step out the door and into the alley behind the club, but with that recent memory of how it felt to be a person again...

He knows he can't turn away and pretend he never saw it happen. 

"Stay here." He says to Jenna, giving her hand a tight squeeze before pushing through the throngs of sweating bodies back towards the door. The music is deafening and for a second he catches a glimpse of William and Gabe on the dance floor, but soon he reaches the door and the sharp cold air of a New York winter bites the party away as soon as the door is shut behind him. 

Ryan is on his knees, and not in the way that is to be expected with his line of work, but in a way that makes Josh's stomach clench with the sound of skin meeting skin. 

The amount of men around Ryan has increased to about five, with one looming over to kid, a strong hand on his throat and another shaking away in recovering from landing on the sharp plane of Ryan pale cheekbone. There's more blood splattered across the boy's skin now, dripping from his nose and lip and then from a thin cut along his eyebrow. His hair is hanging limp in his eyes and Josh can see the glint of tear streaks running across his skin from the dim glow of the streetlamp at the entrance of the alley. 

"Hey, hey!" Josh yells before even thinking, and the men's heads snap up to look at the newcomer. Unfortunately, even if Josh did spend more time working out, they still wouldn't be intimidated by a single man against the five of them, and a few of them laugh a little as if to express that very sentiment. 

"Is this kid yours?" The man with his hand around Ryan's throat asks, moving enough so Josh can see Ryan's eyes slipping closed which only makes Josh's own blood pound harder in his ears as he steps closer, shaking his head as he does. "No, but i'm certain he isn't yours either." 

The men laugh again, stepping away enough so Josh can speak directly to the center man who thankfully releases his grip from Ryan's neck. Allowing the boy to crumple against the cement walls with a small noise from the back of his throat that Josh would rather forget. 

"You're wrong about that, man. Because this kid owes us for the drugs he keeps stealing, so I think we're more entitled to him than you are." 

Josh feels sick build at the back of his throat as the men nod in agreement. The situation is so darkly stereotypical but it's happening and it shocks him, really, that these disgusting men think they have any kind of ownership over some kid. But if drugs are involved, it's serious, and Josh's unsure feelings of how helpful he can be to Ryan suddenly increases. 

"What does he owe you?" 

"More than he'd got, which is the problem." The man says, moving a kick into Ryan's unprotected stomach before Josh can even move. "Hey!" He shouts, slipping in between the other two before anymore damage can be done to Ryan scarily still form. "I-I don't have money right now man, I don't, and he doesn't either. But if you let him go I'll get enough to pay off his dept okay? My names Josh Dun, and you can hold me to it." 

He should probably think before he speaks more often. He hasn't had money in ages, barely enough to keep him in Kaitlin in their shitty apartment, and definitely not enough to pay off any kind of drug debt. But he can't stand by and see Ryan get killed in front of him. He's a shitty person, but he's not evil.

"You sure you wanna do that for some whore, man?" The guy says, and he seems genuinely shocked, which makes Josh lose a little hope for the state of humanity, but he probably shouldn't be looking for humanity in drug dealers anyway. 

"Yeah, I mean it." He replies. "Just let us get outta here and I'll have the money in a couple of weeks." As he speaks, he feels Ryan stirring behind him and tries to dismiss the thought of how many dark alleys Ryan has probably woken up in as the men around the two of them begin to quickly disperse. Josh waits for them to clear the area just in case they change their mind though before he turns to asses the damage.

Ryan's eyes are fluttering between open and closed, and his breathing is ragged but there enough that Josh doesn't panic. The worst part seems to be the fingertip-shaped bruises already forming around the pale skin of Ryan's neck. They make Josh sick to look at, but he can't focus on that now. He has to get this kid somewhere, and assuming wherever Ryan lives isn't exactly a healthy option, he chooses to take him back into the club to find Jenna and then take him to her place. 

He briefly think about taking Ryan to his own home, but he can't imagine his explanation as to why there'd be an unconscious hooker on their couch going very well, plus, Jenna is nicer.

She's just inside the door when he steps in, already on her way out to see where the hell he went when her eyes fix onto the smaller boy half-collapsed against Josh's shoulder and her already large eyes grow wider. "Josh, please tell me you didn't just kill somebody." She says, unblinking as he looks down at Ryan and shakes his head. "The opposite, actually." He replies, and she sighs softly in relief. 

"Can we take him to your place?" He asks as the head back out the door together, avoiding and suspicious stares from the dancers as the walk away as quickly as possibly with Ryan leaning between them from the club. "Yes, but only if I can get some kind of explanation when we get there.

"He's a prostitute i met about a month ago. He's gotten in bad with some drug dealers and I saw him getting his ass kicked so I stepped in. Is that good enough?" He asks, tilting an eyebrow towards Jenna as she looks between the two boys next to her with a mix of shock and worry. 

"You stepped in? What're you, Clark Kent or something? 

"It would've been more accurate to just say Superman, Jenna." He laughs playfully in an attempt to ease her nerves. "Clark doesn't get shit done like I do." 

They get to Jenna's apartment fairly quickly, considering the weight held between them. Luckily she still lives in the apartment she bought with Tyler, though Josh's stomach does a small flip when they walk in and his eyes drop to his friend's belongings left exactly as they were before what happened. He distantly knows that that's probably not healthy for Jenna's recovery, but the more prominante problem of Ryan truly waking up take shis focus. 

"What the fuck, what the fuck!" Ryan's voice cracks out, hoarse and pitiful from the damage to his throat as his limbs begin to flail out in some kind of poorly-thought out defense. It would be laughable if Ryan didn't look so damn scared as he tries to pull away from Jenna and Josh. 

"Ry-Ryan!" Josh shouts, hoping to break through whatever Panic Ryan is in as the kid drops away and moves towards the nearest corner, sticking his fist out until his hazel eyes blink and some kind of recognition begins to kick in. 

"Josh?" He asks, shoulders slumping as his stare begins to dart between the two others.

"Yeah, it's me, and this is Jenna." He replies, gesturing to the woman next to him before she realizes that Jenna has already moved away to find the first aid kit. "We got you away from those guys, so you're safe. Are you still high?" 

"Generally." Ryan nods, and he doesn't move away from the corner as Jenna comes back and shows him the kit. 

"Whatever happened got you really beat up." She says, eyes scanning over the boy's features to asses the damage. "You'll have to let me help you. 

Ryan raises a fingertip to the cut on his forehead, flinching slightly and pulling away to stare at the new dots of blood now staining his fingertips. He's hesitant enough with his nod of permission towards Jenna that it worries Josh a little. Why is this kid so distrustful of help? It doesn't make sense, but then again, Ryan has probably been through more than Josh can imagine. 

"You should go to a hospital." Jenna says as she guides Ryan to her blue velour couch and begins to dab at his cuts with a small antiseptic wipe. Personally, Josh agrees, but he's not stupid and he knows how prostitutes feel about hospitals. Jenna does too, but she's mother-hen enough to still offer. 

Ryan shakes his head, obviously, and refuses any other attempts at questions or conversation that either he or Jenna make fr the rest of the process. Finally, Jenna places a tiny white butterfly bandage over Ryan's eye and moves away, her hands on her hips to stare at the silent kid before turning to Josh. "Can you stay here tonight? I think we'll have some things to talk over in the morning." 

He hadn't really thought of this plan that far. Getting the blood off of Ryan's face was the immediate problem, but now it was late even for him, and there's no way Kaitlin wouldn't be pissed already anyway, so he nods and helps Jenna as she begins to pull spare blankets from her linen closet. 

"Sleepover, then. Ryan, you can have the couch. Josh, you can sleep with me." Jenna states it like it's no big deal, and really it shouldn't be, Jenna only has one mattress and they used to hold each other all the time for comfort after...

It''s too familiar, too reminiscent of the worst part of that time. But he doesn't have many choices, so he nods silently as he helps Ryan situate a makeshift bed. Watching silently as the kid curls up, facing away from him and pressing into the back of the couch as he pull the blanket tightly over his shoulders. He looks relieved, but till rigid, as if he were waiting for the whole thing to fall apart. 

He slips into bed easily with Jenna. Her knitted blankets and floral sheets feel like returning home, and he finds himself relaxing enough as she fills him in on what's happened in the year he was gone. She's got her nursing degree finished, her friend Debby moved to the city last month, she finally go the nerve to see Tyler's family. She rambles on until her voice slows and then eventually stops with sleep, and it feels so much like the old times except that thing's are still too fresh for her to be curled against his back lack she normally would be. 

He listens, he doesn't sleep. Listens to Jenna's gentle breathing as he tries to make a plan for what he's going to do to get money to pay off Ryan's debt.

He listens and thinks ad tries to pretend he doesn't heart the soft sniffling coming from the boy on the couch.

He has a feeling Ryan wouldn't like Josh knowing that he needed help too.


	2. Sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while...Sorry

Josh shouldn't be surprised when Ryan isn't still in the apartment the next morning, but that doesn't mean he isn't.

Jenna looks at him with a weird expression, worried but not in the same way Josh is. To her, the main concern is that Josh is now in trouble with drug dealers by association from Ryan, Josh's main concern is that the kid has voluntarily just disappeared again to welcome the greater chance of getting killed in some cold back alley. 

He couldn't assume that life as a prostitute was grand, but the idea of somebody Ryan's age walking into what was technically suicide, hit something in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Apathy? Maybe. 

"Do you have anything to drink?" He says after taking in a heavy breath, letting his dark eyes scan over the empty living room before turning back to the blonde who was leaning against the doorway, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's barely nine in the morning and you want to drink?" 

He shrugs with a practiced false nonchalance but he doesn't miss the way her from deepens against her thin pink lips as he walks to the bathroom to put himself together somewhat before returning to Kaitlin. 

"You gotta leave already?" Jenna asks from behind him, her hand on her hip as she meets his eyes in the bathroom whilst he swishes some of her mouthwash between his teeth to chase away the taste of stale drinks from last night. "Yeah." He replies with a small smile. "I've gotta go talk to my girlfriend, but i'll be back soon, don't worry." 

He expects Jenna to leave then, to get herself ready for work or whatever she does on her breaks nowadays, but instead she just crosses her arms and tilts her head a little as she watches him. "You're dating somebody? What's she like?" 

He spits out the bright blue liquid into her chipped sink, wiping his mouth off onto the back of his hand before speaking again. To be honest, he can't really find it in himself to describe Kaitlin the way he used to. He knows that she's special, too special for him. He has no right to be holding back the small piece of insanity that she is, but he can't find it in himself to stop. "She's-" He starts, and Jenna looks at him strangely as he takes a second to think it over. "She's amazing, but i'm not the same person I was when we fell in love." 

"Then why are you two still dating?" Jenna asks, her tone suggesting that the situation was simple. Jenna had never really understood problems of romance though. Her and Tyler had found each other in their freshman year of high school, and had barely even fought in the time that Tyler was alive. She wouldn't understand what it was like. She didn't understand the fear of being alone, the pain of hurting someone you care for, the reliance that comes from being two people with no family in the city. 

"Because i'm a dumbass." He replied. She nodded, obviously. To her, that was good enough. 

He left soon after, his hands stuffed into his beaten military jacket that Kaitlin had picked up for him from some junk shop in the city. They had thought it was funny at the time, back when they could make fun of the war. Now all the can do is swallow thickly and cross their fingers in hopes that it'll be over soon. 

Kaitlin is on the couch when he walks into their apartment. Puffing out a tired breath from walking up the long flight of rusted stairs as their eyes meet and she raises a thin, blonde eyebrow at him. 

"Was she good?" She asks, her tone even and flat, but Josh can see how her lips are torn up from her biting down on them like she does when she's angry, and her posture is too rigid for her to be high, and Kaitlin is only ever not high when she's angry. She doesn't like having her fights whilst inebriated.

"I wasn't with anybody like that, Kate." He says with another sigh. He steps closer, reaching out as if to cup her cheek in his hand, but she stands up like a bullet. She's tall enough to meet his eyes and her stare is unfazing as she tilts her head up with the air of defiance that all the girls seemed to have these days. 

"I know you have been, I have too! Why don't we just stop with the pleasantries and face this fucked up relationship for what it is?" 

He can't argue with her there, but it still hurts when she confirms his suspicions. He had thought that maybe, maybe things weren't as bad as he thought they were. "Kaitlin, I think we should think it through more before you go and do something drastic." 

"Drastic, really? You think it's so totally unreasonable for me to finally want this to be over?" She moves closer, her soft hips pressed against the denim of his jeans as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm wasting my youth on you, Joshua. I can't do this anymore, not if you aren't even going to try and hide when you're seeing other women." 

He tells her that he was with Jenna, but of course she doesn't believe him. Why would she? He hadn't seen her in over a year, why would he now. She practically laughs at him as she stuffs her suitcase with her tight sequined dresses and her flowing silk shirts. She grabs the clay pots from the counter and send him one last looks, something between a mix of disappointment and love. He doesn't want to remember that look, but he knows as he watches their front door slam, that he will.

He needs a drink, and desperately so. 

He thinks about calling Jenna, but he doesn't want her to see him like this. Not after the man she saw last night, the one who was still at least somewhat put together as a person. He'd like to keep the ruse up, even for a short time, that he knew what he was doing.

He's already very drunk when he calls the number on the card again. 

It's dark, and he can barely keep himself steady against the wall as he pulls the phone from the reciever and jabs his fingers against the nine digits. The phone barely has time to ring before the other end picks up, and at the foggy memory of last time, he remember that he has to speak first. 

"It's Josh again, man. Josh Dun- The guy from the queer bar..." He drops the sentence into a fit of giggles as he leans against the wood paneled wall and smiles sleepily into the receiver. 

"We don't take clients who are already high, Dun." The voice says, just as gruff and drawled out as last time and Josh frowns slightly into the receiver. He doesn't like the voice at all, it sounds like bad teachers and fathers and, and- 

"M' not high, I swear to God, man. But I need to see Ryan okay? The little skinny kid with the eyes and-" 

"I know who Ryan is." The voice cuts him off and Josh frowns again. He's beginning to really not like this guy. "Will you send him over, then?" Josh asks, squeezing his eyes shut as his head begins to throb and the big yellow lamps that Kaitlin bought are glowing too bright against his eyes. He also is beginning to think that maybe he shouldn't call Ryan, that the kid is in all kinda of trouble and he'd given Josh the chance to get away from all his drug-dealer bullshit before it got more serious. He could just let it go, and Ryan could continue to suck dick and snort cocaine until he died in some club....

He gives the man his address, stupidly. And the man says Ryan will be there within the hour. 

Josh doesn't remember falling asleep, but he must've, because suddenly he's being woken by an assault of pounding knocks against his front door. By the time he finally stumbles over and gains enough dexterity to undo the lock, Ryan is already turning away to walk down the back stairs. 

"Ryan!" Josh says, flinching a little at his lack of volume control as Ryan turns back around and raises a smooth eyebrow at him. Josh moves to the side and Ryan wordlessly slides into the apartment, waiting for the door the close behind them before rounding back on Josh. 

"Seriously, Dun, I didn't think you had a death wish." 

He shakes his head, brown curls falling over his eyes as his hips jut forward and his thin hands twist themselves into the pockets of his jeans. "I left so you could have an easy way out of my mess. You don't want drug dealers, you don't want to get involved with prostitution, you need to sober up and leave me alone." 

"I have a bad habit of letting good people leave." Josh starts, his voice slurred only slightly as he steps closer to Ryan, not missing it as the kid flinches away from the sudden movement. "I've got a good feeling about you, Ryan. And I'd feel real bad if you got yourself killed be some drug dealer who thinks you're some disposable hooker." 

Ryan smirks a little, shaking his head with a feeble laugh before looking back up to Josh with large eyes. "That's exactly what I am, and I'm not ashamed of that." 

Josh frowns, the lines tracing around his chapped lips as he nods back towards the still-opened front door. "Are you coming in or not?" He asks, and it's not that he wouldn't be surprised if Ryan didn't come in, but he'd still be disappointed.

"Do you have drugs?" Ryan asks in return, his thin eyebrow raising as he tilts his chin up at Josh. 

"Um, weed maybe." Josh shrugs, deflating a little at Ryan's refusal to attend to his own hero complex. "Got plenty of alcohol though, if you want." He shrugs, and watches as Ryan's mouth falls into a thin line as he shakes his head. "I don't drink, ever."

"But you snort cocaine and supply John's with whatever shit they're asking for?" Josh asks playfully, smiling a little as Ryan shoves past him and into the apartment. 

"The concept is more than your inebriated brain can currently comprehend." Ryan snaps back as his eyes scan over the room, landing on the record player in the corner before darting over and quickly pulling a thin vinyl from it's bright pink paper sleeve. "The Lemon Twigs, seriously? It's that a little gay for you?" His eyebrow quirks again towards Josh before he takes the current record off the player and replaces it with the former. "Aren't you the one who actually fucks men?" Josh mumbles bitterly in reply. He took enough shit from Gabe for his music taste, plus, the Twigs weren't bad. 

"I'm in no denial of what I like, baby." Ryan says back, moving away from the record player as his hazel eyes fluttered closed and he lets a smile play softly on his lips as the delicate opening notes fill the small living room and the kid's hips begin to sway slightly along with the singer's thin whine. "You should light a joint." Ryan says, twirling around a little in a lazy way that makes Josh wonder if Ryan hadn't already been smoking today, but it's not like he's sober himself, so he doesn't hesitate much before lighting up and taking a long drag before handing it to Ryan as the other man hums along to the song. 

"I think I just got broken up with." Josh sighs, watching as Ryan takes his own drag before falling back onto the heap of broken springs and faded pale-blue corduroy that was once a couch. The drinks from earlier are still clouding his thoughts, making everything swim together even if now at a slightly more workable pace. 

"That sucks." Ryan says dryly, turning back to look as Josh through half-lidded eyes as his pink lips wrap around the joint again before lazily dropping down onto the couch next to Josh, his thin body relaxing at the opposite corner with his long legs tucked under himself as his hair fell into his eyes again. Josh would blame it on the alcohol mixed with weed, but his fingers twitched slightly as if to move forward and move the stray hairs from the boy's face. 

"Yeah, it does." Josh replies instead, nodding a little before reaching forward to grab one of the half-full bottles from earlier that still littered the table, taking a swig to distract himself from the feeling of Ryan's eyes drilling into the side of his head.

"Did you call to help me, or to distract you?" Ryan says, his voice is soft, but loaded, and when Josh sets the bottle down to look at him, he doesn't see any kind of apprehension in Ryan's expression, just curiosity. 

Josh looks up at the kid, taking in the huge hazel eyes that he's yet to see without the red-rim of drug use, the pale, shaking hands that are currently spinning the joint around, the faint residue of glittery blue eye shadow that falls over Ryan's sharp cheekbones. Maybe, maybe if Ryan didn't look the way he did, all wide-eyes and fragility, Josh would have taken him up on what he knew Ryan wouldn't deny. He could get high and bury himself inside Ryan, closing his eyes so as to pretend it was Kaitlin so maybe his chest would stop hurting so badly with that low ache that curved down from his throat to his stomach, but Ryan looked like glass that had been stepped on one too many times, and Josh couldn't bring himself to become one more name on the list of people that had used Ryan with the unkempt promise of something more.

"I don't want anything from you, okay? I just didn't want to be alone." 

Ryan blinks once, twice, three times before nodding a little and passing the joint back to Josh. "I'm loosing money for this, so if my boss kills me, it's your fault." 

The lump in Josh's throat tightens again as he takes in a deep drag. "I know you left Jenna's place because you wanted to keep us out of your trouble, but why go back? You could just leave the city, right? Wouldn't that be better than being scared all the time?" 

Ryan giggles, shaking his head as if he was talking to some kid when really he was the young one. "My boss is my dad, Joshua. He get's all the money so I've got no way to get anywhere, much less any place to actually go." 

"You mean dad in some kind of kinky relationship thing, right? Because i'm pretty sure dads don't run prostitution rings featuring their kids." 

Ryan giggles again before moving closer to Josh, practically in his lap as his nimble fingers move to steal back the joint and he shakes his head again. "I guess that's just another display of my father's stellar parenting, right?" 

Ryan takes a deep drag before leaning his head back and blowing the smoke towards Josh's already yellowed ceiling. "Plus, he gives me enough money for drugs, so it's not too bad, and if it is, I don't remember it." 

"Has it occurred to you that being a junkie can pose a serious issue in the future?" Josh mumbles, arching an eyebrow as he stares at the joint in the boy's hand with newfound apprehension. 

"Has it occurred to you that alcoholism is just about the same damn thing?" 

Josh is silent, looking down as Ryan smirks victoriously down at him.

"Don't start judging me now, Dun. You're no better than I am. We're both shit, and if you can, go save yourself before you try and be all noble with me. I don't need a hero." 

Josh nods, slightly ashamed at how transparent he was. He'd always been like this though. It was in his nature to find something to fix when his whole life was falling apart. Kaitlin had left and his alcohol use was possibly more of an issue than he had planned it to be, but Jenna coming back into his life couldn't be coincidence, he knew that he was being given a chance to pick himself up, and he needed to take it. 

"You're right, I'm sorry." He said, and Ryan nodded before slumping down to curl against Josh's side. Bony arms poking into his own muscle as Ryan's eyes fluttered shut. "If you really want to be a hero, you'll let me sleep, okay? I need some rest before I go back." 

Josh nodded, forgetting that Ryan couldn't see him, but Ryan must've sensed the agreement because he curled into himself further with a soft sigh which turned to baby-breaths of sleep only a few moments after. He looked somewhat peaceful, with the tremors that consistently shook through his body in his waking hours subsiding and the worry crease between his eyebrows smoothing over. He didn't look like somebody who should have resigned themselves to a life of being used, but Ryan was right, it wasn't Josh's place to interfere. 

When Ryan woke up, he left his number scrawled out onto a roll of joint paper in jagged, black lines of stubby eyeliner. He knew he shouldn't, but he did.

His father was furious, of course. It was the second time that Ryan had left on a call from Josh and hadn't returned with money. His first step was to make it clear that nobody working under his ring would respond to calls from Josh, his second was to wrap his large hand around Ryan's wrist, hard enough that Ryan could already imagine the blooming swirls of purple and blue that would form from his fingertips later. He pulled Ryan close, using his height to his full power to lean over his son as he spoke with his alcohol-laden breath, "You're not getting your fix this week, alright Porcelain? Maybe that'll get it through that you don't get to choose not to do your job." 

It wasn't the first time that his father had used withdraw as a form of punishment. Usually Ryan would go to some of his old clients during an off night and ask them for a fix on loan, but the incident outside the club was proving that taking out loans was more dangerous than he had thought, and people didn't care enough for his life to be too torn up to kill him. He was just another druggy whore, jonesing for a fix.

He could get weed at least, which would somewhat subdue the withdraw until his father finally let him have his cocaine back. He wasn't sure how long he'd have to wait though as detoxing decreased the dexterity of his work with would then cause his father to become even more angry. It was an endless cycle of hell, and Ryan could already feel his posture dropping for the exhaustion of it all.

\--  
"Ryan, baby, you alright?" 

William's brown doe eyes are like saucers as they appraise Ryan's appearance. He's paying a surprise amount of attention to Ryan's well being which is surprise seeing as Gabe is in the same club as them and that usually means William-s full point of focus will be wrapped around the taller brunet man. Ryan wasn't bitter about it though. Gabe was kind despite his appearances as an obnoxious lady-killer. He cared for William, and Ryan wasn't going to get upset over his best friend's happiness. That was another reason that Ryan simply smiled and nodded lazily in reply to Will's question. He didn't want to ruin his night, plus, William wouldn't even be able to see through the lie in the dim, smokey light of the dance. 

At a better time, one might be able to see the tremor running through his thin body, the sweat beading at his forehead even without the dancing, or the way that he had begun to stutter over his speech every time he attempted to speak. His tongue felt too heavy, his limbs were made of lead, and his lungs felt like they were being crushed between walls of cement. 

It had been only four days since his last fix, but he was already desperate. Not that he was surprised, of course. If there was anything that his father passed down to him, it was a reliance on some form of substance. He hadn't been given his usual fix or money that he could use to buy himself some instead of food or whatever boring thing he had planned before to spend his small amount of pay on. He knew that out of all the people packed into the club, someone had to have low enough standards to accept a fuck from a hooker on withdraw in exchange for whatever they were taking though, and the possibility of finding that someone was looking better and better as his vision swam again just from taking a small step forward. 

Of course that's when he saw Josh talking to Gabe. It seemed as if he couldn't shake the man out of his life, and although part of him would like to be annoyed at that, would like to be able to blame Josh for what he's going through, he knows that he doesn't mind as much as he should. Josh was calm, and didn't want to use Ryan. He just wanted company, and he'd definitely saved Ryan from getting killed at the last club they were at together. 

I'm only human, can't you see?

Josh didn't wear the bright colors and glitter, leather and laces of the rest of the club. He stood with his arms crossed and a gentle smile playing on his lips. He was wearing a white tee shirt that clung against every curve of his chest and stopped just above the belt of his dark suede pants. His eyes sparkled against the gold light and Ryan wasn't even near yet, but he could smell the sharp tang of Josh's cologne. 

Josh met his eyes then, his gaze lifting over Gabe's shoulder and directly towards Ryan. Suddenly Ryan felt as if he desperately needed to be anywhere other than this club though. Josh's mocha eyes were on him but Ryan wasn't fit to be looked at, not now. He was shaking and floating and his skin was itching like it could feel blood cell in his body if he could listen past the pounding in his ears. Josh already pitied him, he shouldn't worsen it by showing himself to be just another junky whore like every other kid in New York. He still had pride, despite everything.

"Ryan?" Josh asked, stepping closer in only a few long strides. His smile was friendly, and his voice held the gentle lilt of a question even though he knew very well that it was Ryan in front of him.

He was about to reply, he was already taking in a shaking breath to try and muster up the motivation for it, but he was cut up my a sharp fuzz that could only come from microphone feedback before a loud, teasing voice cut through the music and the bodies on the dance floor turned to listen attentively, Ryan knew what this was though, it was William's favorite pastime. It was a flurry of hookups and drug deals disguised as a dance competition to some loud disco song. t happened once or twice every weekend and everybody grabbed the opportunity to partner up with whatever sexy thing in a tight dress or quality dealer they had been eyeing up all night without any awkward conversation or negotiation. Ryan would normally flee the building before the dance started, but he fingers were twitching at even the hint of a fix. If he could find somebody who wanted him and happened to have some coke...Heroin, anything. 

The lights changed to a deep shade of purple-pink and the floor cleared of anybody who was just here for drinks and left a solid bloke of sequin and glitter clad bodies that quickly separated into twos. Ryan had lost sight of Josh almost as soon as the announcer cam on over the mic, but he wasn't left alone for long. The kind of partner he needed were fairly common so he wasn't surprised when a strong hand grazed his hips, tracing the pale line of skin that showed underneath his shirt. He looked up to asses the man, pale yellow suit tightly fitted to pale skin, tall and broad and older, but not old. He had glasses on and his dark hair swept just above the rim and sharp sideburns faded into a thin shadow of facial hair. The white powder under his nose indicated that he had what Ryan had what he needed though, and the quality of his suit determined that he had plenty to go around.

He was by no means beautiful, but Ryan could close his eyes well enough. He wouldn't remember it tomorrow anyway if his night went to plan.

Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch me there? Yeah...

The dancers yelled along with the song, voices lost with the music. The heat of the room sent pulses through Ryan's bones and the longer the song went, the more he could feel himself lapse into stumbling instead of dancing, and then simply letting the other man navigate him wherever he needed to go. He knew it'd be worth it, but God, he wanted to vomit. 

"You wanna get outta here, right baby?" The man asked, which was a pretty nice formality if only the hot breath against Ryan's neck didn't make him feel faint. Every sensation felt like it was multiplied, the music too loud, the air too hot, his blood too thick.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." 

The man nodded, spinning them around until it was safe to try an exit the lines of people. Ryan could've sworn that he saw Gabe dipping Ryan to the ground for a second, but it was lost in a flash as soon as it started. The hand pressed firmly to his back moved them forward towards the door with calculated urgency. Ryan could hope that it'd be easy, no unusual kinks to deal with, no surprise guest. Just drugs and then sex and then falling asleep in a swirl of nice sheets until he got kicked out and had to scramble back to his father's apartments.

"Ryan?" 

It was the second time that Ryan had heard that voice tonight. The sound barely registered through the pounding in his head, but he couldn't mistake the strong hand that brushed against his shoulder, the sign of familiarity spooking the man behind him to step back a little, the man's dark eyes meeting Josh's with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Is he yours?" He asked, nodding towards Ryan with a small frown. 

"Ryan? Man, no! Of course not." Josh said quickly, his lips turning into an upset sort of frown as if the very idea hurt him. It was sweet, kind of. How strangely naive Josh was. 

"Then do you mind moving?" The man said, this time with an annoyed edge in his voice as his hand returned to Ryan's skin, the time low on his hip. It could've been fine if Ryan wasn't already feeling as if the slightest shift would send him toppling, but he was, so the small amount of push that the man pressed against him resulted in Ryan making a thin noise that he refused to acknowledge, and squeezing his hazel eyes shut against the light as he felt his body lean heavily to the side. 

"Whoa baby, what are you on?" The man asked against Ryan's ear, too close and too loud to be helpful. "Nothing, unfortunately." He mumbled sarcastically as he used the man's shoulder to steady himself, the feeling of linen that he had anticipated gave way to thin cotton though, and when Ryan looked up he was met with a familiar pair of mocha eyes.

"I'm getting out of here." The man said behind Ryan again, and before Ryan could turn around and try and grab the man before he vanished, get himself together before he lost his best chance at a fix tonight, Josh was guiding him back towards the door. Cool air hitting his skin in a wave that made his voice catch in his throat for a second as he was guided out away from and lurking smokers outside. 

"Ryan, what's going on?" Josh asked, his voice didn't sound so bad now that they were outside, but the vertigo hadn't left yet. Ryan felt as if he was walking through the ocean as he stumbled away from Josh before collapsing cross-legged in a huff onto the chipped cement curb. "You getting me out of a fix is what's going on, jackass." He replied sharply, his gaze shifting up to glare at Josh. He didn't really have the energy or motivation to be pissed, but he had a good reason, so he'd do it anyway. 

"I'm sorry I got you out of some creepy drug-fueled hookup, Ryan. I wouldn't have done it if you didn't look like you were about to pass out." Josh said, equally as sharp as he sat next to Ryan and looked him over in a way that Ryan assumed was Josh trying to be pissed off. 

"I'm not sick, Joshua. I'm having withdraws." He muttered, looking anywhere except to Josh after he spoke. He didn't need judgement, he needed to watch the occasional car sail over the road or more frequently, some drunk disco queen clumsily tripping over her platform shoes. 

"I thought you said your dad supplied you? That was the deal you guys had, right?" Josh said, and Ryan didn't even have to look at him to know the face he was making. An eyebrow raised in concern more than judgement, a kind, earnest frown. "Yeah." Ryan shrugged, nudging a small piece of gravel with his shoe as he looked down. "But sometimes I fuck up and he won't give me any, so..." 

"Desperate times, desperate measures then, right?" Josh asked, a small sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Ryan. He was disappointed, but he had no right to be. 

"Nothing I haven't done before." 

"Yeah, that tends to be the problem with you." Josh said, staring at Ryan until the other man finally had the courage to look back at him. Ryan's expression wasn't meek though. It was steel eyes and thin lips pressed into a line as he spoke in his monotonous voice. "There are a lot of problems with me, baby." 

"Well I can't fix them all, not now anyway, but I can take you to my place and get you some water. I don't know how long your dad is gonna hold out, but whatever you're detoxing from is rough and you're not gonna be able to work through it. Not unless these guys wanna be fucking you whilst unconscious." 

Josh flinched as he spoke, regretting the sentence as soon as he'd said it, but Ryan laughed a little as the stood up and he nodded. "Some guys like that though, right?" 

"That's fucked up." Josh mumbled before wrapping a loose arm around Ryan's waist to support any faltering steps as they began the walk to Josh's apartment. "Isn't it just?" Ryan smirked teasingly, enjoying the sight of Josh's lips curving upward for a second after he spoke. The didn't talk much on the walk after that. Ryan's head was still pounding and Josh seemed fairly focused on them not getting mugged as they walked home.

Josh's apartment was dark and even messier than it had been last time Ryan was there. Beer bottles and shirts scattered the floor, camera equipment was spread over the table, and there was a large blank canvas pushed up against the wall, allowing just enough space for Josh to be able to walk to his kitchen. 

"What's with the canvas?" Ryan mumbled, nodding towards the piece as Josh quickly moved to pour them both drinks as Ryan began to fumble out of his shoes and possibly try and wipe of the pale pink glitter from his eyes. 

"I um, thought painting would help after Kaitlin. But I don't know what I should paint, so it's just sort of there for now." Josh shrugged, looking a little embraced at the evidence of his heartbreak as he came back and handed Ryan a glass of water, watching the other man to make sure he drank it all before taking a sip of his own. 

"Art heals all wounds?" Ryan teased, wiping off the remainders of his lip gloss on the back of his hand before a sharp pain seemed to shoot through his forehead and he flinched again. The headaches were the worst part, easy. He could handle the vertigo, he could handle the vomiting, but the pains in his head felt like dull needles were constantly being pressed against his skull and it made him want to curl up in a dark dark room and never have to deal with it again. 

"More like I do stupid things when i'm sad. But seriously, Ryan. You're not okay right now, what should I be doing to help?" 

"Nothing, I don't need anything unless you happen to have some coke lying around here somewhere." Ryan replied bitterly, shaking his head as his fingers trailed up to tug at a sweaty strand of dark hair. 

"I don't have any of that shit, but I do have a decent bed and I can give you some pain meds or something, right? You can just knock out and sleep through it for a while." Josh said, nodding towards the door to his bedroom before guiding Ryan there. "But where are you gonna sleep?" Ryan asked, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head as Josh opened the door and shuffled them into the small space, vanishing again for a second only to return with a small orange bottle of medication before he answered Ryan. "I'll sleep on the couch." 

"I don't wanna take your bed." Ryan frowned, looking back at Josh as the other man handed him two small white pills that he proceeded to swallow dry. He doubted that they'd provide much relief, but any small amount was a blessing. "It's no big deal, kid." Josh mumbled, setting the bottle down before gesturing to the bed. "I don't sleep much anymore anyway." 

Ryan wouldn't have normally relented, but his head was pounding and everything was too hot and he felt that if he didn't lay down soon, he'd probably end up toppling to the floor. "Thank you." He said instead, looking down with his lip dragged between his teeth before he flashed Josh a small, grateful smile. "You can wear one of my shirts or whatever if you want." Josh said, nodding towards the room's closet before stepping back towards the doorway. "Your stuff doesn't ever look comfortable." 

"It isn't." Ryan lamented, stepping towards the closet and shyly reaching for a powder blue tee shirt, covered with some ridiculous slogan from an old high school before looking back to make sure Josh wasn't looking as he slid off his own shirt and pants and into the new one. The shirt practically reached to the hem of his boxers and it slipped just to his shoulder, making him looking infinitely smaller than he was, if that were possible. Josh's expression remained nondescript when he looked back to Ryan as he moved into the bed. 

"Goodnight, Ry." He mumbled, tugging at his bottom lip worriedly as he noticed the faint sheen of sweat that still painted Ryan's skin. He didn't know much about withdraws, but he knew they weren't fun, and seeing the delicate lies of Ryan's body did nothing but remind him that the kid was in no way equipped to handle such a thing. 

Ryan fell into a fitful sleep almost as soon as the light was out. Flashes of dreams, soaked in electric green and strong hands whirled through his vision, too fast to focus on, hints of voices, commanding, yelling. He wanted to curl up, block his ears to the world and squeeze his eyes shut, but nothing would stop the images.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when he woke up gagging. The clock on Josh's nightstand indicated that it was around four but that's about all he registered before he felt his throat tighten again and quickly scrambled, tripping over hidden bumps and edges in the dark, to the bathroom. 

He didn't bother with the light, he knew it'd do more harm than good with his sensitive eyes. The cool feeling of the tile against his knees was doing enough to assault his senses and he pushed back his damp hair and gagged over the toilet just in time. He wished that he couldn't feel the salty tracks of tears over his cheeks as he threw up, the situation was already humiliating enough as it was, but he did. Everything just hurt so unbelievably bad, worsened only as his vision swam and he choked again over the toilet. 

"Ryan?" A voice spoke above him and suddenly he was assaulted by the bright flash of white light as Josh flicked the switch on. He didn't have enough control to hold back the pitiful sound he made as the light sent pinprick flashes through his head and his throat tightened again as if trying to rid itself of food that just wasn't there. 

"M' sorry." He mumbled tiredly, rocking back onto his knees as his hands wound their way into his hair and he shook his head quickly. "M' sorry, I'll get out of here in a moment, I just gotta rest..." His voice trailed off as he spoke, his tongue weighing heavily in his mouth as he sniffed and tried to angrily wipe away his tears before Josh saw. 

"Ryan, you're not leaving like this, you'll get yourself killed." Josh shook his head, moving down to his knees in front of Ryan before delicately touching his fingertips to Ryan's arm. 

"So?" Ryan replied, looking directly at Josh this time, tears swimming in red-rimmed hazel eyes and his pale pink lips bitten raw as he made another choked noise. "This shit is just gonna keep happening, right? It's not gonna get better, stuff like this is gonna keep happening till I die, so what's the point of prolonging it?" He looked away as he spoke, squeezing his eyes hut again as he curled his knees up to chest and bit his lip. "I feel like i'm going crazy, Josh." 

"You're not going crazy, Ryan, okay? You can get through this, just let me help you." 

"You can't help me, I'm the very definition of lost cause." He said bitterly, reciting back the words his father had said to him only a few weeks ago. Josh sighed, but not in annoyance, it was in some sort of hurt way that made Ryan's chest ache as he hid his face between his knees. He could feel Josh's fingers trail into his hair, gentle and slow in a way that Ryan hadn't ever really felt before, maybe he liked it. 

"You're lost, that's for sure, but you're worth it, I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm really excited about this so please leave some comments!


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